


Choosing Death

by AmethystUnarmed



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Dark fic, Garbage Court - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, Urban Magic Yogs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystUnarmed/pseuds/AmethystUnarmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Trott, mate... What is he talking about?” Israphel laughed again, and Trott couldn’t repress the shiver that traveled along his spine.<br/>“Your leader understands how magic works, gargoyle. You chose to keep the human, but a sacrifice still must be made. The universe demands it.”</p><p>****</p><p>The Garbage Court gets backed into a corner, and Trott must make a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choosing Death

Trott woke up when the hood was ripped off his head. He groaned and opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them again. It was too _fucking_ bright.

“Look who’s finally coming around.” Trott growled, but didn’t bother responding. Whoever their captor was, he was a massive dick. He attempted to move his hands, but they were locked to the chair behind him. His wrist burned where metal touched his skin. Iron. _Fuck_.

“Trott! Trott, can you hear me?” He heard clinks and clanks of metal. His eyes flashed open.

“Ross?” The gargoyle was on the other side of the room, wrapping in chains like a heavy metal mummy. It would have been a hilarious sight in any other situation. He could see Ross struggling, against his bonds, but they weren’t budging. He looked over the other man, trying not to let his concern show on his face. Now wasn’t a time to show weakness. He seemed to be intact, with no new cracks or chips that Trott could see. But he was close to panicking. His blue eyes were wild, his chest, heaving.

“I’m sorry, Trott.” Ross was rambling, even as he pulled against the titanium, “They got the drop on us. I tried to fight, but they grabbed you and-”

“Shut up.” The voice was a hiss, rough and ancient as the sands of time. For the first time, Trott looked at his captors.

They weren’t anyone he knew, of that he was certain. Their magic was strong, pungent, and very, very old. He would recognize that feeling if he had felt it before. This was alien to him. But he knew who they were. He would recognize those masks anywhere. He let out a slow sigh. Bounty hunters are the fucking worst.

“Israphel. Strawfingers. Quite a surprise to meet you here. To what do we owe this meeting?” Though he couldn’t be sure, Trott would swear he saw Israphel’s ruby eyes flash.

“Strawfingers, wake up the other one.” Trott and Ross could only watch as the scarecrow went over to the third chair, shadowed in the darkness. Strawfingers ripped the hood off, and Trott swore he could hear hair ripping as well. Smith’s head lolled forward, but he didn’t wake up. Strawfingers curled his fingers into a fist and sunk a punch into Smith’s stomach. The selkie woke up with a sharp gasp of pain and a bout of coughs as he tried to regain his breath. Ross started thrashing again.

“You fucking pricks! You absolute scum, I’ll rip your fucking dicks off, you-” The masked man lifted his hand, preparing to hit Smith again, and Ross fell silent. Smith shot him a slight smile. A trail of blood trickled down his chin from a busted lip and Trott could see a bruise darkening around his eye. The sight pissed him off.

“You’ll pay for that,” Trott spoke, glaring at Israphel. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out who was calling the shots. He more felt than saw the man’s oily smile. Trott took a deep breath. It was time to get to business. “Who put a hit on us?” Israphel's laugh felt like barbed wire on his ears.

“No one, foolish selkie. You have broken the rules, and things must be balanced.” Trott could feel himself paling. A knot burrowed into his stomach. Ross met his eye with worry.

“Trott, mate... What is he talking about?” Israphel laughed again, and Trott couldn’t repress the shiver that traveled along his spine.

“Your leader understands how magic works, gargoyle. You chose to keep the human, but a sacrifice still must be made. The universe demands it.”

“The universe can fuck off,” Trott spat, letting a sliver of anger into his voice.

“Sometimes, I might agree with you.” The red eyes were drilling into him. Trott didn’t know what kind of magic he held, but it made him was to hide. The man carried the essence of death. “But, nevertheless, if the Garbage Court gains one member-” He paused, and pulled a gun from his hip. “-it must lose another.”

“Don’t you dare!” Trott shouted, reaching from something, anything, any magic that could get them out of here. But there wasn’t enough. He’d only get them killed. Ross and Smith were silent for once in their lives. They had caught onto what was happening, stunned with the weight of their dilemma, just as he had been. Israphel was on the verge of giggles, as though their suffering was the most delicious thing he’d experienced in centuries. He moved behind the selkie, leaning to whisper in his ear. The hot breath and flecks of spit that landed on his ear made his stomach churn.

“But fear not, Trottimus. I will not take control of your Court from you. The decisions will still fall to you.” To his shock, he felt one of the cuffs fall off his wrist. He was free. But god, he didn’t dare move. _What are they doing?_ Trott thought, becoming only tenser at this new development. He couldn’t predict their actions, and therefore couldn’t plan for what was coming. He hated it. Trott stiffened as he felt the hard edge of the gun trail down his neck and collarbone.

“I usually hate human technology, but these I can support,” Israphel mused. Trott was no longer sure if he was expecting replies, so he kept his mouth shut. “So much power in such a small item... Even your gargoyle would not withstand a blow from this... But I am certainly curious to see its effects.” The gun fell away from his skin. Israphel must have made a gesture, because Strawfingers moved from Smith’s side and walked up to the selkie. He pulled another pistol out and forced it into Trott’s hand. He could feel his eyes widen. He understood.

“No. I refuse.” He felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of his head, heard the click as the bounty hunter cocked it, and still he did not move.

“Come on Trott.” Brown eyes flicked to meet blue. Ross was smiling, but the look was sad, resigned. He looked like Trott had already pulled the trigger. “Go for it, mate. It’s only fair. Last in, first out, right? Just get it over it.” Trott could see it all too clearly. Ross’s head, shattering apart, erupting into a cloud of dust and fragments. He wasn’t even sure if Ross would die, or just live on, fractured into a million pieces and-

“No, Trott. I’m the fuck-up, remember? You need Ross. Just get rid of me and be done with it.” Smith tore him from the awful image, by only supplying one just as horrible. Smith, with a hole in his head, a trail of blood trickling down his nose like a tear and-

“Hurry up, you prick,” Smith chuckled, eyes locked on the floor, “Haven’t got all day.” Ross spoke up again.

“No, Trott, don’t, I-”

“Would you two stop asking me to kill you for two seconds!” He shouted, and they fell silent. God, his hands were shaking. He looked at each of them, studying their faces, trying to commit each one to memory. He lifted the gun, willing his hand steady. “I’m sorry, sunshines...” He spoke slowly. The words like novocaine on his tongue. He only felt numb. “But you fucks better run.” With reflexes quicker than the eye could follow, Trott turned and fired a bullet into Israphel’s gut. He used all the energy he could muster, forcing a spell that cracked Smith’s handcuffs and cut Ross’s chains. They were just staring at him. “Run, you idiots!” He screamed as he moved to fire at Strawfingers. “R-”

There was a bang, and Trott knew no more.

 


End file.
